


Days Go By

by deathRae94



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Depression, Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Headcanon, M/M, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multiple Wardens (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathRae94/pseuds/deathRae94
Summary: This is a collection of "one-shots," primarily centered around Camber Cousland, Nathaniel Howe, and Rendon Howe. They will be posted as I write them, and not necessarily in chronological order.I mentioned Rendon -- Arl Howe, as most people call him. I've taken a liking to writing from his perspective, and "turning the monster into a man," as a dear friend put it. Please don't flame me for it. Mind the tags and archive warnings, which will be updated as I write.Title: "Days Go By" by Lifehouse. Please give the song a listen :)





	1. Stolen Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camber Cousland loses her parents. Rendon Howe lost everything.

_“No!”_ Camber screamed. “I’m not leaving them!”

“Pup—” her father stopped short, and coughed into his wife’s lap. When Bryce lifted his head, Camber saw that blood was on his lips and in his teeth. He was dying.

“You—you must _go_ , now!”

 _“I won’t!”_ Tears streamed down her face to the corners of her lips, and she involuntarily licked the moisture. It was a mistake, she realized, because she tasted not only salt, but oil and blood and dirt, as well. She heard her mabari whine, but she paid him no heed. “You can’t make me! I’ll die here with you, if I must!”

Eleanor turned her gaze toward her daughter. Her eyes narrowed and darkened: a sign of anger, as Camber knew all too well. “Camber, _never_ say something like that again,” she hissed. After a pause, her features softened. “I love you too much to hear you say that.”

Bryce coughed again. Fluid was in his lungs, and he knew he did not have much longer. His vision swam, and he tried to focus on his daughter’s blurred face. “A Cousland… always does her duty first. Defeat the darkspawn, aye?… and _then_ see to it that Rendon pays for his treachery.”

Camber’s lips quivered as she struggled to breathe evenly. “Father,” she murmured, and kissed his cheek. She threw her arms around her mother. “Mother—”

“—You don’t need to say anything, Dear.”

“Mother, I love you.”

Eleanor withdrew her hand from Bryce’s side, and hugged her daughter tightly. “And I love you. Now go!”

For their part, neither Duncan nor Lyra had made a sound during the emotional exchange. When Camber stood and turned to face them, neither of their faces betrayed emotion. It stung, to think that neither of them felt her grief. Well, fine. She didn’t need their pity. Camber waited for a moment, expecting Duncan to lead his two Warden-recruits. She then realized that they were waiting for her.

“The exit is this way,” Camber stated flatly. She glanced back at her parents for the last time, knowing she would not see them again. “Come, Judex,” she said to her dog. She led Duncan and Lyra to the kitchens, and she snatched a burlap sack and began filling it with dried meat and produce, knowing full well that Judex would eat most of the meat. Camber voiced that was at least ten days on horseback to Ostagar, and they likely wouldn’t stop for a long time – perhaps until Kinloch Hold, or Redcliffe. Duncan nodded, and grabbed a sack; Lyra only followed suit after Duncan. She preferred to sneer at everything, it seemed. Camber then led them to the servant’s exit. Not bothering with the latch, she kicked the door open and stepped into the cool, night air.

 

* * *

 

That the Warden had been here had been a… complication. Rendon hadn’t intended on making enemies of the Wardens; but Duncan had shown up uninvited, so he would pay the price of his discourtesy.

“Captain Kerin,” Rendon barked. “Where are they?”

Kerin saluted his Arl. “Arl Howe, ser. The Teyrns Cousland were found in the larder. The Teyrn is gravely wounded, and his wife has been captured.”

Rendon grimaced. “Bryce… was not… to be harmed.” Each word came out slowly, through gritted teeth. Rendon’s anger was on the verge of boiling over.

Kerin noticed it immediately, and he knew better than to let Rendon’s wrath manifest. “Rendon—my lord—the man who injured Teyrn Cousland has been dealt with already.”

“Good.” Rendon breathed deeply before speaking. “And what of the girl?”

Kerin’s breath caught. “Camber Cousland… is nowhere to be found.”

“ _WHAT?!”_ Rendon reached for the nearest breakable object – in this case, a vase – and smashed it upon the ground. Kerin maintained a straight face. “How?!” Rendon seethed. “Nevermind that. Find her.”

Kerin waited for his lord’s posture to resume normalcy. “I have already sent scouts, my lord. I have instructed them to report to me as soon as she has been captured.”

Rendon sighed. “What of the Warden?”

“Unaccounted for as well, my lord.”

“Thank you, Captain. Take me to Bryce.”

“At once, my lord.” Kerin motioned for Rendon to follow, and he led the Arl through Highever Castle to the larder. Teyrn Bryce had been administered poultices to staunch the bleeding, but it wouldn’t be long before he died – not unless a mage were nearby, or the Maker himself intervened. Teyrna Eleanor had put up a fight and killed four of his men before she was overwhelmed. Her hands were bound, and she had been gagged – she had torn the flesh from one of his men’s arms with her teeth. She was spirited, Kerin gave her that.

When Rendon entered, he saw beads of sweat on Bryce’s deathly pale skin, and his breaths were shallow and uneven. Eleanor had given up on fighting, it seemed. Whether her will was sapped, or her strength had failed, no one could tell; but Rendon knew better than to assume either of those things were true.

“Leave us,” Rendon ordered. He knew his men wouldn’t give him complete privacy, but he could hope they wouldn’t overhear this exchange.

When Rendon had spoken, Bryce’s eyes had slowly opened. He looked at his old friend, and coughed before he spoke. “Rendon, why?”

Two words—two words were all it took to nearly break him. “Because,” Rendon whispered, and turned his gaze to Eleanor, “you took everything from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyra is Lyra Surana, the second Warden who will accompany Camber during her journey to defeat the darkspawn.  
>   
> Judex means "judge" in Latin.


	2. I Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camber and Nathaniel play I Spy.

The Cousland family, Nathaniel in tow, took a carriage to Amaranthine. Nathaniel had stayed at Castle Highever for the summer, and the Couslands would stay in Amaranthine for a week or two… Nathaniel wasn’t really sure how long. He was just glad to finally be going home.

Nathaniel, Fergus, and Camber rode in the back, while Bryce and Eleanor rode in the front. Fergus remained silent, pouting… wishing he could go back to Highever and practice his swordplay. Camber, on the other hand, chatted endlessly, and Nathaniel indulged her. They talked about the weather, about the King, about whose life was more boring. It would take three days to get there, so they had to keep themselves entertained somehow.

“I spy… something yellow.”

Nathaniel looked at his betrothed curiously. “Seriously?”

“We have nothing else to do! Now, guess!”

“Oh, fine.” Nathaniel looked around the carriage. Nothing ‘yellow’ immediately jumped out to him, so he looked outside. It was overcast, he noted. “Is it sunflowers?”

“Correct!” Camber clapped. “But that was easy. Your turn!”

“I spy something brown.”

“Okay, umm…” Camber looked around. There was a lot of brown. “Is it the benches?”

“Nope.”

“Is it… the dirt outside?”

Nathaniel shook his head.

“Is it my hair?”

“Wrong again.”

Camber scoffed. “You picked a difficult color.”

Nathaniel chuckled. “Keep guessing, Camber.”

“Can you at least tell me if it’s inside or outside?”

“Of course not!”

“Pleeease?” Camber whined.

“Fine… inside.”

“Okay! Is it the wood on the floor?”

“No.”

“Is it your ‘pack?!”

“No.”

Camber looked around. “Is it the beams, holding up the cloth?” she asked, pointing upward. Nathaniel shook his head, and she sighed heavily. “I give up.”

Nathaniel smiled. “Your shoes.”

“Oh.”

“That’s two points for me! Shall we continue?”

“Yes,” said Camber, defiantly. She looked around the carriage, and outside, taking her time, careful to not look _at_ Nathaniel. Finally, she said, “I spy something grey.”

“The sky?”

“Nope!” Camber grinned. “You can’t even see the sky, silly!”

“The _clouds?_ ”

“Huh-uh.”

“Is it the ribbon on your dress?” Camber shook her head. “The Waking Sea?” _No_. Nathaniel leaned forward, looking toward the front half of the carriage, where her parents sat. “Is it the buttons on your father’s shoulder?”

“Nooo…”

Nathaniel whispered his next guess: “Your mother’s hair?”

Fergus laughed. Camber shook her head yet again.

“By the Maker! Is it the thread on my breeches?”

The younger Cousland giggled. “You’re wrong.”

Nathaniel relented. “What is it?”

“Your eyes, silly!”

He pursed his lips. “You didn’t even look at my eyes – you didn’t look at me!”

“So? I know your eyes are grey.”

“That’s not the point of _I Spy_ , Camber.”

“But I won!”

Nathaniel sighed. Camber was still a child, in his eyes. They had been promised to each other since she could barely walk… but he was sixteen and she was ten. To think of her as anything more than a child at this point was ludicrous. She still had trouble walking, truth be told. She lacked the grace required of a nobleman’s daughter, and would rather climb trees than read books. He couldn’t fault her, though. He had wanted to climb trees at her age. Yet he was the eldest Howe, and he had responsibilities, as the eldest.

Responsibilities, including setting aside childish pleasures, learning how to defend himself in battle, practicing diplomacy and leadership… and marrying a Teyrn’s daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend needed a pick-me-up, so I published this earlier than I had intended. Young Camber-and-Nate is one of my favorite things to write.


	3. Storm Giant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonas, Bryce, and Rendon meet Fearcher in Denerim to help with the upcoming battles on the seas.

Rendon could hardly believe it… but they had won. Ferelden was free. It wouldn’t be free for long, however, if they could not drive the Orlesians out of their waters. And for that reason, Bryce, Leonas, and himself marched to Denerim with all their remaining men. 

One of the former banns, Fearcher Mac Eanraig, was bloody brilliant on the seas; and while their trio had done their part helping Maric on Ferelden’s land, Fearcher had been relentless in keeping Orlais’s ships from supplying their army. Rendon knew many of their victories should have been losses, but Orlais’s dwindling rations and arms had taken a toll on their morale and capabilities. Beyond that, it seemed like some of the soldiers had given up on the reason for the conflict. _Let these Fereldans have their country_ , Rendon recalled a prisoner saying. _It smells like dog_.

True, Ferelden did smell like dog, but that was just one of the many reasons it belonged in the hands of Fereldans, and not Orlesians. 

They arrived in Denerim in the middle of the day. While they allowed their men to rest from the long journey, Leonas, Bryce, and Rendon continued to Denerim’s docks, to meet the renowned “Storm Giant.”

There were fewer sailors than Rendon had expected, and now he knew why Fearcher had urged for every able-bodied man to march to Denerim; and that was precisely why he was here, despite Eliane’s pleas. As they walked through the docks, searching for their host, Rendon couldn’t help but notice that every eye was on them. 

_Father Slayer._

_Nonsense! They do not know who I am!_

_They do._

_They’ve never seen me before!_

_That does not matter. They know what you are. Do you?_

Rendon had slowed his pace, and Bryce turned around to see what was holding up his friend. Leonas crossed his arms and stood still, watching Rendon.

_That one most of all—he knows what you are._

“Rendon?” Bryce placed his hand on Rendon’s shoulder. “Is everything all right?”

Rendon felt himself relax at Bryce’s touch. _He doesn’t care._ “No, it isn’t. But I can’t talk about it.”

Concern caused Bryce’s brow to furrow. “Are you sure? You’ve been like this for months, now.”

Rendon averted his eyes.

“This is about your father, isn’t it?” Rendon’s eyes darted back to Bryce’s. His lips parted; but before he could speak, Bryce continued. “Don’t try to lie to me. We’ve had this discussion before—if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But…” Bryce sighed, “I’m here, okay? Don’t forget that. Aye?”

“Aye,” Rendon mimicked. It gave Rendon no small amount of satisfaction to tease Bryce, and it was easy to do so by mocking his accent. He felt slightly better, but he knew he couldn’t burden Bryce with his demons. Not yet, anyway. 

Bryce rolled his eyes. “Come now, Fearcher is waiting.”

Rendon nodded, and walked beside Bryce and Leonas until they reached a dock house. Men bustled about, carrying ropes one way and supplies another. As they wove their way through the commotion, Rendon saw several men surrounding a table, on which charts and maps were laid. A tall man with grey hair and a moustache was bent over the table, his palms resting on the wood.

“Is that?” Leonas asked.

“Must be,” Rendon muttered. 

The men who were gathered around the table parted way for the three newcomers. The large man straightened, becoming even taller than Rendon imagined possible for a human, and smiled. _Storm Giant, indeed._

“Welcome. Fearcher Mac Eanraig.” He clenched his right hand and placed that arm across his chest, bowing slightly. “You three must be Leonas Bryland, Rendon Howe, and Bryce Cousland.” He extended his hand. “I regret to say I do not know who is who.”

Bryce was the first to return the gesture. “I am Bryce. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Would that it could be under more pleasant circumstances,” said Fearcher. His hand now waited in front of Rendon, who shook Fearcher's hand firmly. His hand felt small in Fearcher’s grip.

“Rendon Howe, at your service.”

“Well, you look no worse for wear! The stories I have heard of White River said you were nearly dead.”

Rendon grimaced. He did not like to think of this battle… he blamed the defeat on himself, even though Bryce had told him countless times it wasn’t his fault. “I was, nearly. Leonas’s sister didn’t want me to come here. She’d prefer I stayed in bed a year to recover.” He paused. “But I had to see this through.”

“Admirable,” said Fearcher. “I hear you are a strategic mastermind. We will need that.” Fearcher turned to the last of them. “Leonas, then?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Ha!” Fearcher laughed, as shook Leonas’s hand. “We are all equal, here. No banns, arls, or teyrns until King Maric grants us our titles again.

“These are my sons, Erik… Rolf… and Olivier.” Fearcher had gestured to his left and right, pausing after each name to allow his sons to nod when their names were spoken. They all looked quite a bit like their father — thick moustaches, deep-set blue eyes, above average height — and they all had blond hair.  “My daughter, Eleanor, is preparing the Mistral for our next raid. You will meet her soon.” 

 _That’s that, then,_ Rendon thought. It was rare for him to receive such a warm welcome, and even praise, from a stranger.

It would be one of the last times he felt appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *scratches head* You have no idea how much time (well, I'll tell you: it was an hour) went into picking Eleanor's brothers' names. I searched for the origin of her name and her father's name, and then went with what seemed both appropriate for the time period and for this story. Fearcher is Scandinavian, and Eleanor is French, so I went with a mix of those two nationalities to get the brothers' names. I'm not even sure if Erik, Rolf, and Olivier will appear again, but it was important to me to get their names right.


	4. Blood and Bruise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rendon discovers something about his house guest, and decides to send Nate away for squiring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: domestic abuse

Senna felt like vomiting. The girl had been so kind to her these past months, never once calling her “knife-ear,” or “servant,” like her master was wont to do… how could she betray her?

But she had a son whose life she couldn’t compromise; so, when the time came, she requested an audience with her arl.

It didn’t take long for him to send for her, and she hadn’t expected it to. Senna thought she would be able to quell her nerves by the time she stood before him, but she was wrong.

Rendon noticed her unease. The way her pointed ears involuntarily twitched, how she wrung her hands, and how she shifted her weight from foot to foot, told him exactly why she was here. He sat at his desk, with his elbow propped up on it, his hand supporting his head. “You requested to see me?”

Senna curtsied and bowed her head, and let her head hang. “Y-yes, my lord. You wanted me to keep an eye on the guest’s bed and clothes.” She chewed on her lower lip.

“And?” Rendon did not have the patience to deal with… Siena? Serena?... today, or any other day, really.

“Well, my lord, she’s been here for some time, and…” Senna sighed before blurting out, “there’s been no blood for several weeks.”

Rendon’s left eyebrow rose. This was an interesting turn of events, but it was not unexpected, which was precisely why he had assigned her to watch the girl closely. “How long is several weeks?” He had to be sure.

“Seven, my lord. Her… flow occurred when she arrived in Firstfall, but nothing since then. And it’s Wintermarch,” she added.

 _Seven._ Although he knew it was possible her flow was simply late, he could not take any risks, and time was of the essence. “Dismissed.”

Senna gathered her skirt and dashed out of the room. Rendon rubbed his face, and felt stubble catching on his rough hands. He would need to shave soon. “Foolish boy,” he whispered to himself. Rendon stood, and headed to the private gardens of Vigil’s Keep.

When Rendon arrived, he found Eliane tending to elfroot and spindleweed, as expected. She was alone; she liked to have this sanctuary to herself. At least she had a hobby. “Eliane,” he said. He waited for her to face him, but she never turned.

Instead, she said, “Hello, husband,” as she carefully removed weeds from the soil.

Rendon crossed his arms. “You know… I was thinking we should send Nate to squire, after all.”

Eliane put down the spade and placed her gloved hands on her stained apron, mulling over Rendon’s words. She looked at him and asked, “He’s a little old for that now, isn’t he?”

Rendon waved his hand through the air, as if to brush off her concern. “Nonsense! When’s the last time you wrote your cousin? You said he needed a squire.”

“I received a letter from him this week, actually.” Eliane stood, and brushed the dirt from her apron. “The offer to Nathaniel still stands, he said.” She paused, and studied Rendon’s face. She took several steps forward, until they were an arm’s length apart. “Has something happened?”

“What? No, not at all.”

Eliane wasn’t convinced. “Mhmm, I’m sure. Isn’t there someplace closer that would be better? With Nathaniel and Camber’s engagement, I wouldn’t want to—”

“I want him to go to the Free Marches,” Rendon interrupted, “and that is final. They can write to each other, and marry when he returns, if they still want to marry.”

“‘If they still want’?” Eliane looked at her husband in bewilderment. “What has gotten into you?”

Eliane didn’t remember seeing the blow that connected with her face; but it stung, and she resisted the urge to cry. She knew better.

Rendon pointed at her face, and said, “Do _not_ question me or my motives. Send a pigeon. Write Rodolphe and let him know that Nathaniel will be there by next week’s end.” He turned to leave, but stopped before he left the garden. “Oh, and Eliane? Don’t leave the Keep for a few days. Wouldn’t want anyone asking questions about that bruise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crying* I didn't want to release this chapter yet, because we haven't seen much of Rendon's good side yet... but here I am. Lamenting my protagonist.


	5. The Escape!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The escape from Highever. Picks up immediately after Chapter 1, "Stolen Lives".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus. Life happens.

The three escapees were caught by surprise—there was a guard posted at the servant’s exit.

“Wh—” He opened his mouth to shout, but began choking. Every bit of air that entered his lungs was poisoning him. Camber drew her blade and slit his throat, and he collapsed to the ground.

Lyra snorted. “That was unnecessary. I had it under control.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Camber stated. After checking to make sure no one else was nearby, she whispered, “How do we plan on escaping? Judex can keep up with horses, but not for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Not to mention,” Lyra added, “horses’ll draw more attention than we’d like.” She looked around. “Any way we can get out of here without being seen?”

“Amaranthine is east of here, is it not?” Duncan asked. “That way will be blocked, and they know we’re headed south. Can we go west, instead?”

Camber nodded. “The West Hill bannorn is west of here. I’m sure Franderel will aid us.”

“Let us hope,” Duncan whispered. “How long will it take us to get there?”

“On foot?” Camber sighed. “At least four days, if we’re lucky. But there are farms along the way: I’m sure one of the farmers will help us.”

“You’re sure of a lot of things, aren’t you?” Lyra retorted. “I hope you’re not wrong.”

Camber scoffed. “At least _I_ thought of bringing food.”

“If I may interrupt…” Duncan began. He glared at his recruits. “We have to move. Take us west, Camber, and we can sort out the rest later.”

“Aye,” Camber confirmed. They snuck around Castle Highever and through the alleys of the terynir’s city, careful to stay out of sight of everyone. Who knew how many of these people had been threatened or bribed to report to Arl Howe? Camber wanted to believe that the people on her land were loyal to her family, but swords and silver could turn many men to betrayal…

She tried not to think about how many innocent lives were already lost under such circumstances.

They made it safely to the outlying farms, and kept going until they saw a carriage on one of the properties. It was nearly sunrise, by then. Many people were beginning to wake, now. Camber knocked on the door, and was quickly greeted by a woman heavy with child.

“Well, good morning. Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Camber began, “but I have urgent need of your carriage. Can we use it?”

The woman glanced between the three—no, two humans, an elf, and a mabari. She noticed the crest on Camber’s chest, and the griffon on Duncan’s armor. “Todd!” she called. “We have visitors.”

Camber held her breath. What if these people weren’t on her side any longer? Then again, she had barely explained herself. She waited until “Todd” came to the door.

“My lady!” Todd exclaimed. “You’re a spittin’ image of your pop, you are.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You know my father?”

“Aye, we fought together during the Rebellion. ‘Course I’ve put that behind me, as you can tell. What can I do for you?”

Camber briefly explained that they urgently needed transportation to West Hill. “But… I don’t have any money to give you,” she said sheepishly. “I’m asking for a favor… will you take us to West Hill?”

“Aye, my boy can handle the carriage. Don’t you worry none about the money, I’m happy to help.”

Todd and his son began hitching the carriage to a couple of horses.

“Listen to me,” Camber whispered to Todd, so that his son could not hear. “We… are on the run. Highever was attacked.”

“Maker’s breath! By who?”

Camber’s lips curled. “Arl Howe.”

“Rendon? But—”

“—My parents are dead,” Camber interrupted. “And I would be, too, if we hadn’t escaped. Now listen, please. If anyone asks if you’ve seen us, just tell them the truth.”

“My lady?”

“I cannot ask you to put yourself in harm’s way, for my sake. If anyone— _anyone_ —asks if you’ve seen us, answer honestly. Because if they find out you lied, I cannot imagine what horrors would befall your family.”

Todd nodded. He thought it would be better to lie, and probably would if he were asked. But he wouldn’t tell Camber that. “Thank you, dear girl. I appreciate it.”

“Thank _you_ , ser.”

And with that, they were headed to West Hill.


	6. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was only one person's life Rendon valued more than his own...

Rendon saw the blow—too late. The air was knocked from Bryce’s lungs, and Rendon felt immediately ill. With renewed fervor, he danced around his enemy, sinking his pair of daggers deep into the footman’s back. He looked to his... friend... again. Bryce fell to his knees.

 _No_ …

The soldier who had struck Bryce stood over his pain-wracked body, grinned as Bryce choked and gasped for air.

_No, no, no!_

Rendon snarled, the nostrils of his hooked nose flaring as he did so. He withdrew his daggers from the man he had just killed, and ran toward his friend. He leapt over one corpse and stumbled over another in his haste, paying no heed to the duels taking place around him.

_I’m coming, Bryce. Hang on!_

He felt as if he were moving too slowly. His heart beat against his chest, and it was all he could hear. The clash of iron against iron and the cries of his countrymen were but echoes compared to the rhythmic pounding in his ears. They would not win this battle, he knew. White River was lost. But Rendon would make damned sure he and Bryce got out of there alive.

_Hang on…_

Rendon tucked his head down and, placing his left shoulder first, used his momentum to knock over the Orlesian who had stood over Bryce. _That’s going to leave a bruise_ , he thought as he rolled his shoulder after the impact. He repositioned the daggers in his palms, and stood in front of Bryce, guarding him.

“Where is your honor?” Rendon taunted. “Face me instead!”

The Orlesian swung his longsword in a horizontal arc. Rendon ducked under the blade, and tumbled to avoid the incoming shield bash. He slashed with one dagger and stabbed with the other, but was parried and blocked by his foe.

Bryce stood, his legs shaking beneath him. He picked up his longsword and waited for an opening. Rendon relentlessly attacked, but gained no ground in the fight. He moved around the Orlesian quickly, and kicked the helmet off him. His enemy grunted, and swung down with his sword… and Rendon did not dodge in time. He shrieked as the blade cut deeply into his shoulder. Bryce saw his opportunity, attacked the Orlesian’s shield arm, but the blow did little against the chainmail armor.

“Back for more, are you?” asked the soldier. He yanked his blade from Rendon’s shoulder, which caused Rendon to cry out again. His attacks immediately put Bryce on the defensive, and Bryce did not know how long he could keep this up. The Orlesian staggered Bryce with a shield bash, and lunged with his longsword, intending to end the young noble’s life. But… the blow never came.

Rendon jumped between Bryce and the Orlesian, and the sword pierced through Rendon’s leather armor.

“ _NO!_ ” Bryce screamed. “No, no, no!” Before the Orlesian could pull his sword from Rendon’s abdomen, Bryce slashed his foe’s neck, and watched as he slumped over to make sure he was dead.

“Rendon? Rendon!” Bryce slapped his friend’s cheek, but Rendon’s eyes wouldn’t focus. He was losing a lot of blood.

_Rendon! Hang on!_


	7. The Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camber and Nathaniel each make a wish.

Camber took Nathaniel’s hand in her own. “Come with me!” she exclaimed as she pulled, beckoning him to follow.

Nathaniel had been sitting in the library in Castle Highever, thumbing through one of Genitivi’s writings on the dwarves. He had always found dwarves fascinating. Completely unable to conjure magic, unable to dream… both blessed and cursed, he supposed. The library in Vigil’s Keep was not nearly as well-stocked as the Cousland’s… indeed, there might be more books here than if one gathered every book in the whole arling of Amaranthine. _I will have to ask father to invest in a better library… but I doubt he’ll agree._ He sometimes envied the Couslands. _There are **some** benefits to arranged marriages…_

He placed a marker in _Stone Halls of the Dwarves_ and set it on the side-table. “Where are we going?” he asked the eight-year-old.

“That’s a secret.” Camber pressed her finger to her lips for emphasis.

Nathaniel smirked. “All right. Do I need to close my eyes?”

“Hmmmmm, no. You might bump into something.” Camber giggled thinking about it. “That’s funny.”

“Oh? My pain is amusing to you?”

Camber smiled and nodded her head.

“In that case,” Nathaniel paused to dramatically cover his eyes with his free hand. “Lead on.”

Camber carefully led him from the library and down a flight of stairs. Miraculously, he hadn’t tripped; but perhaps it was more miraculous that _Camber_ hadn’t tripped. She was quite clumsy, even for a child. Sunlight on his skin and the scent of embrium told Nathaniel that they were in one of the castle gardens.

Camber began giving Nathaniel commands. “Turn… no! Turn that way. Wait! A little back. There.” She giggled, pleased with herself. “Open your eyes.”

Nathaniel removed his hand and winced in the bright daylight. They stood directly in front of a well in an herbal garden. “Why have you brought me here?” he asked.

“There’s a legend about the well in this garden. Legend says if you toss a coin over your shoulder into the well, your wish will come true.”

Nathaniel snickered. “Who told you this legend?”

“Fergus,” Camber said without batting an eyelash.

“He—” Nathaniel paused. Fergus was probably messing with his little sister, but Camber was young and gullible, and her trust in her older brother was absolute. Then again, maybe there was a local legend about this well. In either case, he did not believe in superstition, but he didn’t want to shatter Camber’s innocence. “Did he tell you which shoulder?”

“Hmm, no. Is that important?”

“Probably not, but I want to get it right.” He winked at the young Cousland. “Have you coins for us?”

Camber’s eyes lit up. “Yes!” She reached into the pocket of her green dress and withdrew two copper pieces. She turned around and waited for Nathaniel to do the same. “Close your eyes, make a wish, and toss it in!”

Nathaniel chuckled, and did as he was told.

“What did you wish for?!” Camber asked, after the ordeal was finished.

He smirked. “If I told you that, it wouldn’t come true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this chapter came from a prompt generator. I knew I wanted to write, but I didn't know what to write.


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